


Sea of Melancholia

by Septima_Severina



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Angst, Class Differences, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Freeform, Reader-Insert, Really Angst, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:38:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4390406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Septima_Severina/pseuds/Septima_Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Arno are the lovers. But the obstacles between you and him are the class difference and the nature of his work. Moreover, you have engaged to a nobleman. The way that you and him could be together is runaway from everything - leaving France behind, while he doesn't agree with you. How would you and him solve this problem?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sea of Melancholia

**Author's Note:**

> I've posted this on Tumblr in Arno Dorian Imagine Only Blog. I realise that I have the account on AO3, why am I not posting it. So, I decide to post it here too. For the French words - which appear in this fic - if you any word is incorrect, please feel free to let me know. And...last but no least, enjoy your reading! :D

(Y/N) was finally preparing herself for bed, but not before she had sat and read for hours, waiting for her lover.

 

She sent for him, requiring his presence. He had promised that he would pay a visit, after his work was done – around midnight. But now as she looked at the clock, it was almost two in the morning already.

 

She couldn’t help having some bad thoughts. He might be severely wounded somewhere at a dark and cold corner of Paris, or worse – he might have been lay dying right now.

 

“No…It’s impossible.” She shook her head lightly and tried to shed all inauspicious ideas from her head, while she blew candles at the nightstand.

 

Her ears caught creaky and clanging sound, making her jump into her bed. It could be just a cat, she thought. She ignored it and tried not to wander out from bed. However, she was wrong. She didn’t know that the one who made those noises was creeping out of the shadow, approaching to her bed.

 

(Y/N) felt the side of the bed sinking as if someone was on it. She turned around and didn’t forget to grab a dagger, which her lover had given her for defending herself, from under the pillow.

 

“ _Mon Dieu!_ ”

 

She exclaimed, almost loudly enough for her maid in the next room to hear it. Suddenly, a dagger fell down to the soft mattress. The moonlight showed the face of the man who unarmed her. He wasn’t any other man than her lover, Arno Dorian.

 

“ _Bonsoir, ma beauté._ ”

 

Instead of greeting back, (Y/N) slapped that smug feature. Arno was shocked and confused, but then she pulled the tall man closer and smooched him affectionately. He enthusiastically kissed back until his hood slid off.

 

“You are late! I…I thought you were dead, I thought those criminals have killed you already!” She threw her arms around his neck.  

 

“It’s alright, (Y/N). No need to be afraid.” He soothed her by whispering into her ear and stroking her shaky back gently, “I’m with you now, right here.”

 

Without any words, their lips met again. This time Arno pushed her down to the bed, while reaching his hand to the hem of the gown, but her reaction didn’t allow him to go any further. She held his arms from getting her undressed.

 

“Later. Firstly, tell me, what kept you from arriving here punctually?”

 

Arno felt disconcerted on telling her about the affairs of the Creed. Even though she knew that his career was associated with the espionages or likewise, she had never discovered the existence of the Brotherhood and the Templars’ Order. She always understood that he affiliated with the Jacobins. He preferred to keep it that way.

 

“Business, nothing more or less.”

 

“As usual,” She snorted with his vague answer, her suspicious on him wouldn’t fade away easily.

 

He had to distract her from the risks which would lead to the ancient secret. “For my atonement, since you don’t want me to touch you….” He kissed her once again, before purring upon her skin.

 

“And please go walking with me.”

 

“You won’t easily get what you want – only asking me nicely. Also, it’s almost dawn within three,  _ne fais pas le con!_ ”

 

He paused. “And what am I supposed to do?”

 

“Just lay down here,” She patted the space at her side. “We must discuss the issue I have mentioned earlier.”

 

Arno hesitated, but he still did as she demanded. He moved to the side and turned his head to her, entangled his hand to her curve and his head to her shoulder.

 

“Then pray tell me, what issue that need me to be here tonight?”

 

(Y/N) didn’t answer at once. She shifted closer to him, sighing softly.

 

“I want to be with you ‘til the end of time,” She muttered and took a deep breath. It was so difficult to tell him the truth.

 

“Of course, we could be together, ‘til there has nothing left in this universe.”

 

“Not with under the circumstance like this. You know that I can’t delayed the wedding forever, my excuses keep getting weaker and weaker. If I got married, certainly I couldn’t bear the touch from that man. He’s not you.”

 

“Me too,” He said while leaning in to kiss her cheek. “My heart would be shattered in a million pieces and I would rather die than let that connard lay his hand on you.”

 

“But what would you like me to do,” Her voice sounded almost hopeless, this happened every time when they mentioned the wedding. “You know that if I broke the promise, mine and his parents wouldn’t be pleased!”

 

They gone silent for a while, she knew that her lover was thinking about how they could solve this problem. Since there were no others way to get out of these states, which like they were stuck between the devil and the very deep blue sea.

 

But (Y/N) was the first who broke the silence;

 

“Let’s run away together, Arno.”

 

He thought his ears might be deceiving him, or her words were just a little joke to lighten the situation. He looked into her eyes, but there were no sign of any jest.

 

“We can’t, (Y/N). There must be another way to make it through, ma cheri. You won’t marry him or go to the convent, but we don’t have to run away.”

 

“Do you have any better idea than this, though?”

 

“Give me a time to think, maybe one or two weeks.”

 

“You have no time left now. The wedding will be held within two weeks…”  

 

Arno felt like he was being struck at his head. His brain and all of his though were dazed and mixed up with numbness. It was the reason why she had been so grumpy and impatient lately, wasn’t it? He bit his lips, and then he decided to speak;

 

“Give me a week.”

 

“Arno…” (Y/N) attempted to protest, but he shook his head.

 

“Just let me, I promise I would solve this.”

 

He gently kissed her temple. She closed her eyes. She had to restrain herself not to shake him violently with her irritations and frustrations or force him to do what she wanted right now.

 

What she could do was just held him tightly; let the gentle and sweet scent of cologne from his clothes, to prove his existence that it wasn’t fading away – like a mist in the late morning.

 

 

*************************************************

 

 

The week had been quickly passing by. There were no massages from Arno; he didn’t show up at her window as always, either. (Y/N) kept asking her household’s butler, who had risen his suspicious on his young mistress from her unusual manner, if there was an anonymous letter sent to her. But there were only just a few from her friends.

 

And four days ahead, it would be her wedding day.

 

She sighed heavily as she let the butler walked away. Then, abruptly, she left the manor.

 

“Where are you going!? Don’t you need a carriage!?”

 

Her mother just walked down from the upper floor and curiously asked with a high pitched voice. But (Y/N) didn’t reply.

 

Her feet took her to the Île Saint-Louis, where the Café Theatre was located. She headed inside and asked for Arno, but the answer was that he had been away since yesterday. Hence, she decided to wait for him by sitting at one table in the Café.

 

The performances on the stage and a cup of cacao weren’t doing her any good. She didn’t feel that everything was lively and merry. She gazed around, between the hall and the doors, wishing and hoping that Arno would show up at the frames any minute. But there was still no sign of him.

 

Many hours later, (Y/N) unexpectedly fell asleep due to the weather outside. It was raining now; the drizzles caused a very pleasure and fresh air. But the truth was she was unable to sleep for a week.

 

She didn’t know how long she had slept, but she woke up because someone gently shook her shoulder and upper arm. It was the Café’s manager, Madame Gouze.

 

“It’s almost seven in the evening. We’re closing now, Mademoiselle.” Madame Gouze paused a little, “And you should go home, Monsieur Dorian hasn’t returned yet.”

 

Disappointment distinctly appeared on her face. She didn’t want to be anywhere else until she could see her lover and get the resolution from him. She felt that if she walked back to her home, she definitely wouldn’t have a chance to make all of these messes right. So she asked Madame Gouze if she could wait just a little more.

 

She moved from the Café’s table to the coach near the staircase, sat patiently, and tried hard not to think about his unfortunate fates again. This time she didn’t have to wait for too long; the tall silhouette turned up at the door frame. Without a doubt, it was Arno.

 

“(Y/N)!” He gasped when he saw her, “What are you doing here?”

 

“The time you have asked for is running out.”

 

“I know, I-” He didn’t finish the sentence, because of her solemn face. Actually, he had no single remedy for their queasy situation. And she noticed that.

 

“Then run away with me, Arno. I have some trusted friends in Italy and England. No one would ever find us.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

Arno suddenly answered without a single hesitation when he heard that he had to leave France while the Revolution was on its zenith. It wasn’t that he chose his career over his love life, but he was a hard man to love by his work condition. He was often on the run, not even mentioned that his enemies might discover his weaknesses, one of them was her. Maybe it was a clichéd excuse, but he wouldn’t let any danger come upon her.  

 

And if she moved in or fled from France with him, her life would never be safe again.

 

No one said a word; the only sound around them was just the raindrops. But a minute, which seemed like eternity for them, (Y/N) finally broke the silence.

 

“Fine…” She tilted her chin up, “I understand.”  

 

“(Y/N)…” He moved closer to her, trying to reach for her hands, but she stepped back.

 

“We have nothing to discuss now…   _Au revoir_.”

 

She turned around and walked pass him without the usual longing glance. His eyes followed her direction, now she was stepping out of the building, not caring if she might catch cold or not.

 

What could he do? If he followed her, she certainly wouldn’t listen to him.

 

 

*************************************************

 

 

The passage to the northern part of the country wasn’t as rough as (Y/N) had thought. It might be a little bit inconvenient for the woman who had lived her entire life in the big and comfort manor, but all of the luxury couldn’t compare to her suffering heart now.  

 

She arrived at Calais one day before her wedding. Today supposed to be her wedding day, if she was still in Paris. Her parents and her fiancé must have been searching her around the city and maybe at the Versailles or all the centre part of France. And if they gained the information that she travelled to here, they would never find her and she would be in Rochester or even London at that time.

 

For now, she had some time to stroll around the port; decided that whether she kept the letters, which Arno had sent to her, or not.

 

Her eyes glanced to the horizon; supposing that she crossed the Channel, her past would be left behind and vanished, liked all the waves rushing the shores, taking everything on the beach with them.

 

She sighed heavily. It seemed that the sun set on her love now and all those words, which she had read them many times, were meaningless. One day he would find someone new and maybe forget her as well. So, it would be better to bury the whole memories at sea.

 

The papers were being torn into pieces, and they were blown away with the wind and drifted into the stream. But when she took another one out and about to tear it down, a well-dressed young man clumsily and groggily walked towards her.

 

“Excuse me, Mademoiselle.” He said with a bashful half smile on his face.

 

“Yes? How could I help you, Monsieur?”

 

“May I ask; have you ever been aboard before?”

 

“Yes, I have.”

 

“Ah… Fortunate me!” His smile was wider and brighter, “I don’t know what to do or where to go…Those people lack kindness…”

 

(Y/N) knew that the man was referring to the employees, who always unwillingly served ordinary passengers. She nodded in approval and grinned.

 

“It’s their standard; even the revolution can’t change them.” She paused a little, “What you want me to do?”

 

“Well, they have told me that I must precede the processes about two or three steps. But I can’t remember them all. I managed to ask those people again…”

 

“Very well…” She suddenly understood. “I will help you for that.”

 

“That’s very kind of you.  _Merci beaucoup, Mademoiselle! Merci beaucoup!_ ”

 

He said cheerfully and grabbed her hands, squeezed them tightly. But when he saw the last letter, which was from Arno, in her hand, he pulled back quickly.

 

“I’m so sorry Mademoiselle. I hope that the letter isn’t spoiled by my neglectfulness.”

 

She looked at the paper and shrugged indifferently, before stuffing it into her coat’s inner pocket.

 

“It’s alright Monsieur. Let’s get you to the checkpoints.”

 

They walked out of the shore together. The man introduced himself to her that he was from Orleans. He had to cross the Channel because his mother had been gravely ill during her journey in Scotland, with nobody else than her servant keeping her company.  

 

He also asked her; why a young woman like her was travelling alone without any companion or escort at all, followed by the necessary questions, which people always asked strangers in order to break the ice and to associate with each other.

 

(Y/N) just told him her disguising identity and information. As she answered, she felt like her instinct was kicking in and screaming so loudly inside her head. She couldn’t tell what the irrelevance of the situation at her hands and an abnormality was, whilst the voice of the man, who wrote the letter at her chest, did immediately pop in to her mind with his mocking smirk.

 

She tended to shake her head to dismiss that voice and that face, which had haunted her since she leaved Paris. Suddenly, it was flung away as she had wished.  

 

“But may I say, Mademoiselle? I saw the name on a letter in your hand, I think I know him.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Is he the Monsieur Arno Dorian, isn’t he? If it is him, I must tell you that I know him very well.”

 

She raised her eyebrows, wondered why this man even knew ‘the Monsieur Dorian’. She sought the possibly reasons, which he could be related with Arno.  But she was completely clueless.

 

And if he really knew her mysterious hooded-man so well, why on earth wouldn’t she ask about him? Since a piece of her was yearning and longing of Arno, almost intensely. Maybe if she listened about Arno from the other’s eyes, her pain would be cured and relief – just a little would do.  

 

Or it would be worsened? She didn’t think about it anymore. She just wanted to feel a bit of him, before she went away and forgot everything.  

 

“What do you know about him?” She asked.

 

The man told her about Arno’s childhood and his personal life; he had grown up in Versailles, used to travel along Europe and Northern Africa, became an orphan when he was eight and he had lived with his adoptive father until he was twenty-one. Before he was imprisoned in the Bastille around three months.

 

She didn’t notice that while they were talking, they walked pass the crowd who gathered around the building and the port. They entered the nearly desolate territory, as their conversation kept continuing.

 

The crowd was dwindling, less and less. But they didn’t finish the conversation yet. They were changing topic to Arno’s career.

 

“I have completely no idea what he does for living.”

 

(Y/N) chose the very neutral answer. She started to believe that this man – seemed true that he knew Arno – was gathering the information about him. He might be a Girondin spy. If he was acquainted with Arno, why did he ask her about something he must know well enough? This was totally suspicious.

 

“Didn’t he tell you, just once?” He raised his eyebrows.

 

“It’s such a mystery to me too. I must apologise, because my answer remains the same.”

 

“But you use to be with him for a while. You may have some hints or clues about his career.”

 

She did. But she still preserved them as secrets. She just smiled to the man and shook her head without any signal that would lead him to – only – the bits of Arno’s duty.

 

“No, I know nothing about the nature of his work.”

 

“Then you are of no use to us.”

 

Her instinct was right. There was something really irregular as the man raised his hand, like he was giving a signal to someone behind her. When she realised them, her consciousness was leaving and everything was fading away swiftly.  

 

 

*************************************************

 

 

The news that (Y/N) had escaped her own wedding, for the last five days, was spreading around Paris widely. It had been a scandalous affair for her family and her fiancée’s. They had been searching for her everywhere, but there had no clues – not even a single one.

 

On the contrary, Arno knew everything; where she was, where she would go, what she had done and what she would do. That’s because of his agents kept sending him the news, so that he would be able to find her later.

 

And he would do it today. He would never let her go so easily and forever, he didn’t realise before that she was the love of his life until he let her go. And the latest letter, which had arrived yesterday, informed him that she should have been at Calais and the ship was going to be delayed for about one or two days because of the weather. He dressed up and prepared himself for a journey immediately – he was ready to fix things on its own track.  

 

When he walked down along the staircase, a messenger of the Brotherhood was suddenly appearing at the door – he was panting so hard due to his voyage.

 

“Monsieur Dorian!” He shouted at Arno while grasping his costal.

 

“Oui? What is it?”

 

Instead of answering the question, he handed the Café owner a piece of paper and ran at the kitchen for some drinks and foods.

 

Arno unfolded the paper and read, as it was nonspecific news from the Brotherhood outside Île-de-France or something likewise. But in a minute later, he frowned and clenched it tightly.

 

“It’s impossible.”

 

He murmured to himself and gritted his teeth. His agents must be mistaken or had been received a wrong information, he had to find and prove it out now.

 

 

*************************************************

 

 

His agents were right all along.

 

Arno had been told that they discovered (Y/N)’s body three days ago; it was abandoned at the isolated area near the beach. They also said that they could have almost rescued her from Templars, but it was too late…when they discovered her disappearance, they heard the screaming already.

 

“A blade was going straight, right to her heart. I assumed that she might not have been in much pain.” The doctor, who examined her death body, explained the wound’s detail.

 

“I hope so.” Arno whispered softly, his tear almost ran out from his eyes. But if the doctor said any single word of how she had been slipping away, he certainly couldn’t hold it back.

 

Or maybe not, because he felt that his vision began to be blurring with water. His hands were shaking rapidly and heavily, while he placed his hand on the coffin at the centre of the room.

 

The doctor knew that it would be better, if he left the Assassin alone this time. He could tell from the shivering back of the taller man. Even though he couldn’t see any tear. Thus, he silently retreated from the room.

 

Arno swept away the tears, which were rolling down on his cheek – it seemed more like waterfall from his eyes. No matter how hard he had tried, it wouldn’t stop, though. So he let them exploded out without any repression.

 

“I’m sorry, my dear.” He sobbed, “I’m very, very sorry. If I make haste any faster, everything wouldn’t have to end up like this.”

 

He knew that she would have never heard this, but he still hoped that his voice was piercing through the wood. He sank onto his knees; his head was leaning against the side of the coffin, as if he could feel her warm skin and sweet scent from every inches of her body – they were no more.

 

“I had never believed in another life or a reincarnation, even praying to God. But now, how I wish to reunite with you again, whether in the one above or below this world. It’s really impossible, I know. I ‘m going to give everything, only if for an hour that I could see you again.”

 

His lips met the cold surface. Because he knew, tomorrow he wouldn’t be able to attend the funeral. Now, there were no any pleasant or joys left in him now, just sorrowfulness and gloominess instead.

 

So…this was the farewell for her.


End file.
